Flawed Design
by NightCrimson
Summary: Orion Remus Black had always known a charmed life - the chinking of goblets, the laughter, the music. As ward of the Malfoys, it was his past, present and future. And then, Viscaria would beguile him. Meaningless. Empty. Leech. A life built on the blood of those who came before. The details were unclear, but that didn't mean a thing. He would find the truth, consequences be damned.
1. Prologue: Chipped Glass

**Disclaimers: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and all its characters. ****The OC's and this fic's plot are mine.**

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(You can skip this part)

**Atonement:** I was thirteen/fourteen when I started fanfiction. Then one day, I stopped writing for a reason I cannot remember - besides being lazy. Now, I've come back and I've realised that all my fics **SUCKED**! Actually, I think I'm being too kind to them even with that. I almost cried when I read what I had wrote (*cough* Darkest Lies *cough* Burning Vengeance *cough* awful *cough*) and freaking hated all the characters' I had created or ruined with my terrible writing. The first thing I will do when a time machine is invented - bitch-slap my younger self and carefully explain how much of a freaking idiot I was.

I'll probably closed all my curtains, locked the door and hide my head in shame for a few days. I mean, why younger self? Why did I think those stories were good idea's? Why was I more stupid than I remembered? Also, why did my reviewers say they were good? They must have been lying to protect my delicate, self-esteem - at least I hope that's it.

I don't know what was running through my head and I don't want to know. But I have decided to try and redeem myself. So, I've currently been working on a revised version of the '**Flawed Design**' fic. This is the prologue. I hope it and the rest of the fic meets standard - I've really been working hard on it and have even done a few all-nighters (yes, some of you probably think I'm sad, which is probably true).

I'll probably leave my old, little (I lie - they're too long for what they're worth) stories (Another lie - they don't even deserve to be called stories) up, so you can laugh hysterically at me or want to murder me to a varying.

(Now that my rambling and apologies are done - **the prologue**).

* * *

**Flawed Design: ****By NightCrimson**

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_"The mind, stretched to new dimensions by_

_ images, thoughts and ideas, can never return to its former shape."_

* * *

**Prologue:**

**Chipped Glass**

* * *

**1986,**

There was a cloaked man in his room.

"_Stupefy_."

And the world just seemed to slip away, before he even had a chance.

* * *

She didn't think it was necessary.

But, they didn't listen. They pretended to - but they never did. They just smiled their fake smiles, simpering as they gently guided her down the white halls as if she were glass.

_"Viscaria Malfoy, patient number 0162 - hour twelve."_

She sits alone, the white dress hugging her small frame, hands resting on her lap as she twiddled her fingers.

She tilted her head away, refusing to look the man in the eye, and caught her own reflection in the tiles. It shouldn't have been her - grey eyes _too_ sunken, skin _too_ pale, and her dark hair drowned her face, shrouding it like a demon.

_"Hello Viscaria, I'm Healer Arncliffe. You know - I have a little girl like you. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"_

* * *

Orion Black sighed.

He was slouched on his designated bed of the past few days.

When could he leave this forsaken place? Sure, he had experienced something traumatic, but he felt like everyone was just overreacting. He was fine - end of discussion. Could he go home now? He had told them, the healers, this, but they wouldn't listen.

He rubbed his shoulder. Apparently, it had been dislocated and suffered a nasty cut when he bashed against something as he was knocked out. It was gone now - just few flicks of a wand was all it took to erase the evidence. But, in all truthfulness, he could barely remember or believe that this had happened.

For the first time in his life, he really envied Draco. He hadn't been at the manor at the time - off on some play-date with the Parkinson and Zabini family.

He had been kidnapped - well, almost. His attempted abduction had been more successful than Viscaria's. She was lucky; her kidnapper had been sloppy and failed. He, meanwhile, had to be saved by Lucius, apparently.

He hated this place. White everywhere - as if colours hadn't been discovered yet. Then there was the staff with their mock sympathy - and the food was just awful.

How did you screw up mash and sausage, anyhow?

* * *

_"So, tell me what's keeping you awake at night?"_

The voice - it was like honey (sweet and syrupy). Most importantly - _fake_. She hated this place. She hated the man before her. But, it didn't matter. They didn't understand. They were all as dry as the pages of the books they used to diagnose her.

She was fine.

_"You're not fine, Viscaria. Tell me the truth. You can trust me."_

She wasn't lying.

She tilted her head towards the man. Loathing swam in the very depths of her eyes. He knew what she thought of him. But, he just kept going and going. He smiled his smile. He made his humourless jokes. His anecdotes and excuses were always _so heartfelt_.

_"No, Viscaria, you can't go home yet."_

She closed her eyes.

She knew her father and her mother would come for her. They had to.

And they did.

Weeks followed - of no progress. It was to be expected. After all, there was nothing that needed fixing. Her father held a high position in the Ministry. It just took a few week of breathing down their necks, and they stamped the release papers.

* * *

He was waiting.

He had been sent home just over a week ago. He was glad to be rid of Saint Mungo's, of the people who acted as if they knew every thought running through his head. It had surprised him how long they took to see he was fine. Not exactly the most amazing healers of this generation.

Sure, he still had strange dreams. However, they were just weird and vague - even funny, after a fashion. As he had _said_ before, he barely remembered what had happened.

Apparently, the kidnappers had been some extremists, whom Lucius had angered by refusing to join their little posse. What were they expecting? As if, Lucius would risk himself and his family for some rabble too big for their boots.

He was waiting for Viscaria to come home.

And she did. And she was different. But, that was okay.

* * *

None of this haunted her. Why would it_?_ The man, her would-be kidnapper, got what he deserved without a doubt. The man's face no longer appeared in her dreams as she thrust the long hairpin through his neck. Those bloodied splotches on her hands, which never seemed to wash off, were no longer there either.

Why would they be?

Sleep deprivation did funny things to people, she had found out. After all, everything went back to normal afterwards. She rested without any problems and no one talked about it. They were just pretending that nothing had changed and even began to believe it themselves.

It was back to the same thing – the same boring, old routine. She was told how to dress, what to eat, what to study, what to say, who to like, what to like, and was always watched for the slightest inflection.

It was entrapment at its finest hour - day after day…

And then the dreams came back...

But she was no longer afraid...

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**Author's Note: So, what do you think? Good start or bad start? Please review - I would really like to know your opinion and if I'm on the right track. Please, point out any spelling or punctuation mistakes, if you see any. I'm also open to any suggestions. I'll likely post more soon. Although, I'll be pretty busy with re-editing certain parts and writing more, but I have a conviction to redeem myself and actually finish a good story - so I am adamant not to disappoint. **


	2. Chapter One: Wonderful! Wonderful!

**Disclaimers: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and all its characters. ****The OC's and this fic's plot are mine. I'm in the process of re-editing this fic.**

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**Flawed Design: ****By NightCrimson**

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_"Set patterns, incapable of adaptability, of pliability, only offer a better cage. _

_Truth is outside of all patterns." _

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**Chapter One:**

**Wonderful! Wonderful!**

* * *

**22****nd**** July, 1989**

The Malfoys' always enjoyed throwing parties. Social gatherings were a must for aristocracy. Drawing respectable, although Malfoy arrogance would silently boast not as respectable, pureblood families in - impressing them with fantastical grandeur and splendour. The proud ballroom was alive once again - the goblets chinking together, the smiles stretched too wide, the loud chatter and laughter only bested by orchestral music - it almost seemed like people just having a good time, but Orion had come to know better.

This business was political maneuvering at its finest.

Everyone wanted something. The toasts were half-hearted. The chatter was disingenuous sweet talk of coiling tongues. The laughter nasal and exaggerated. The only thing that was real in this ballroom was the music. These people were impeccably stiff. Taking everything in their stride as if they were kind. A humorous example was when a goblet of Knotgrass Mead was _accidentally_ spilled by Viatrix Winikus on one woman - an esteemed Quidditch Player for the Holyhead Harpies, Jody Jacknife - who barely restrained herself from clocking the perpetrator and instead tried to awkwardly, brush the incident off.

Accident was dubious, since the two women held no love each other. Viatrix Winikus - the wife of Rubens Winikus, the esteemed owner of _Rubens Winikus and Company Inc_. The company had taken to sponsoring the Pride of Portree Quidditch Team - which not only conveniently helped further advertise their products over their competitors, but conveniently helped the public forget the rumoured scandals of ties to purist-elitists. However, Jody Jacknife and her team had completely thrashed the Pride of Portree in the finals and, without the distractions, the juicy rumours about Winikus fired up again to the point of a possible inquiry from Magical Law Enforcement.

Mrs. Winikus seemed a little bitter on her husband's behalf.

And after all, public embarrassment was almost death for those who thrived on being sociable.

Eyes roving the bustling aristocrats, Orion honed on Lucius' chatting with his cousin, Rasmus Malfoy - who had kindly made a _surprise_ visit from France and strutted in like he was an the one throwing the party. Lucius' handed rested firmly on his only son's shoulder and Draco seemed quite pleased with such affection, despite blushing when Lucius kindly told Rasmus to go fuc... moving on - Narcissa was busy torturing her daughter, presenting her to a group of gushing, glamorously dressed, women, as if she were some pretty, new trinket.

Orion sighed, swerving through the bustling crowds of rich colour and twirls - being extra careful to dodge the dithering witches that seemed enamoured with his supposed _cuteness_ (some had even tried to pinch his cheeks!) with the smoothest and most polite excuses. Escaping the crowd to a more secluded area of the ballroom certainly brought him much relief - he had begun feeling claustrophobic. It took him a moment to realise another boy had taken refuge there - some dark-haired lad, who was nose deep in some black book. A Gosforths? From what he could see of the boy's face, possibly.

Deciding he wanted to hold a nice, normal conversation with someone his own age, he leisurely took the seat across from the boy. When it became clear that the boy was a little too entrenched in his book, Orion loudly cleared his throat (like he had seen Lucius do so many times), causing the boy to snap his gaze up and revealed dark eyes. "Orion Black," Orion introduced himself, leaning more comfortably into his chair. Unnecessary, really - he was the ward of the family not only hosting the event, but also one of the wealthiest, pureblooded families in Europe, probably the whole world. How could this Gosforth _not_ know Orion's name?

Still, courtesy helped.

The Gosforth stared at Orion for a moment or two, before popping his book face-down on the table and saying flatly, "I can see it. Damon Gosforth. A pleasure." Looking Damon up and down, Orion noted the boy was rather thin, with quite high-cheekbones, a fairly weak chin, and an aquiline nose.

Orion smiled at guessing the boy's family name right. "So, Stefan Aylmer or Dorus Gosforth?"

Damon stopped short. "W-what?" he asked dumbly.

"Your father," Orion clarified, "Stefan Aylmer or Dorus Gosforth...? I heard Lucius mention them once or twice."

"Stefan."

The tone was so bitter-coated. It almost made Orion cringe. And, the awkward silence didn't help much. Perhaps, a lighter topic? Orion's eyes latched onto the book resting on the table. His suddenly smile renewed. "What book were you just reading...? You... seemed rather drawn in by it," Orion asked, leaning forward in his chair. "Is it any good?"

Damon became a little shifty-eyed, before slowly turning the book upside and sliding it across the table. The title read, in a silvery, wispy letters: Seven Devils. The authoress' name, Delora Vaisey, was in smaller and bolder golden print at the bottom of the cover. "It's, um, regarded as fairly controversial piece... It explores the persecution of magical folk during the medieval period through the alternating perspectives of seven semi-fictitious witches and wizards," Damon informed, abruptly more vibrant than before. "Very intriguing - if a bit violent and mature."

So, Damon was a typical bookworm at heart? A bit of a chatterbox as well. Orion was somewhat glad he'd found someone intelligent for once. Although, he hoped Damon wasn't the boring sort. "And you're being so secretive about this because…?" he prompted.

Damon looked abash. "Ah... well, I may have taken it. Without asking, I mean... From my mother's personal collection," he replied. Damon popped his lips nervously, before continuing, "I needed something to preoccupy myself, obviously. You see, I was in need of some new books. And, it was just sitting there, on mother's bed - I mean, as long as she doesn't find out... it doesn't really matter."

* * *

There were a lot of children attending. Brought to be shown off. However, after a couple of hours in the ballroom, the party died down a bit and the adults had finally tired of showing off their children like the newest fashion. The adult desired more freedom with their conversations, with no young ears present, and so the children were shuffled onto the porch and the moonlit garden beyond it - the elder children tasked with minding the younger.

Orion had found himself sloughed between to identical wallflowers, Hestia and Flora Carrow, on one of the courtyard benches. They were two decent, but exceedingly boring girls, who mildly responded to the conversation-starters that Narcissa had forced him to practice. The other girl, Agnes Monkleigh, had amused him with her fiery spirit and glares for a while, but even that had become dull when he realised there wasn't much beyond that. So, deciding to slip away, he went in search of Viscaria or even Draco. He needed someone to speak to freely – while Damon was a nice candidate for this, he didn't know the boy well enough.

Orion strolled down one of the various, winding pathways, passing Curtis Evercreech - who was knelt on the moist grass, marring it with his stomach contents. "Ugh… I shouldn't have stuffed myself on the…" This paled in comparison the chaos he continued to happen upon. An older boy, Marcus Flint, was harassing Sebastian Dale, Ernest Macmillan, both of whom were cowering, and another girl, Ursula Penkridge, who was furiously insulting Flint back. Although, that fiasco seemed to be coming to a close, as the kill-joy Gemma Farley was currently storming over there to put a stop to the _disgraceful_ behaviour. Meanwhile, Holden Ledbury and Imogen Stretton were laughing over something, probably vulgar. Dour Glynis Mexborough was pulling Nerissa Brody's fair locks, who was screeching and flailing. And, Lucian Bole, Peregrine Derrick and Cormac McLaggen were in the middle of arguing who was the _bestest of the best _at Quidditch - while Darius Berrow, Bastien Queensbury and Irfan Mustaq seemed ready to slug either of them.

After a while, the crowd had begun to thin as he went further down the garden. Orion had to admit it seemed rather sad knowing so many people - a constant reminder how many, painstaking gatherings his family must have hosted and attended themselves. Passing Fergus Cowley, Maynard Hatton and Mathilda Greenford, who all seemed to be deriding a few of their peers, he arrived at the entrance of a small garden with a fountain in the centre. Striding in, Orion paid no mind to a passing Nerys Orpington-Winikus and Scarlett Lympsham - who were in the midst of a heated discussion.

Daphne Greengrass sitting alone on a bench - her hair tied with an elaborate and violet bow with a flowery dress to match. She didn't even seem to notice his presence - too mesmerised by the rippling water which reflected the twilight sky above. Then, she snapped her head up so fast, Orion almost thought she had broken her neck. Daphne sighed. "Viscaria or Draco?" she prompted, tilting her head.

"Either one."

"Well, you're out of luck. I haven't seen either of them, anywhere," Daphne informed plainly. She pouted mockingly. "They must have run far and fast. Are you really that insufferable, Black?"

Orion frowned. Shrugged his shoulders, he then plopped himself beside her. "Their loss," he said callously. "Anyway... what are you doing out here... all alone?"

Daphne gave him a dry look.

Well, she was _certainly_ full of rainbows and unicorns. Still, Orion was supposed to be gentlemen (despite being only eleven) - it would not do to not try and cheer up a lady. "You look so downcast. Don't tell me Astoria's found someone else to latch onto...? Merlin forbid, l hope it isn't Parkinson - one is already unneeded as it is. Anyway... are you alright?"

Daphne pursed her lips, looking away for a moment. She sighed and sent him a dour look. "Leave."

Sting much. Orion grinned. "Aw. I was only trying to be kind."

"Orion. The only kindness you can give me is your absence," Daphne replied, rolling her eyes.

Orion whistled. What a sting. He leisurely stood up and began to walk away to continue his search. Upon reaching the archway, he turned and bid a polite farewell, "Goodbye, Daphne."

She rolled her eyes. "Goodbye."

He then exited the small garden and continued his search. He eventually happened upon Damon Gosforth, who was comfortably sitting under a tree and rather immersed in his Seven Devils book once again. Surprising the boy and the book were still classed as separate entities. Orion smiled as charmingly as possible. It almost hurt his jaw. "Hello again, Damon, isn't it? I see you're still into that book."

Damon looked up, and for a moment a slight smile played on his lips. "Hello, Orion. It's a great book. Arethusa's daughter is abducted by a mob of Muggles. Arethusa desperately attempt to mount a rescue, only to fall into a nefarious trap - tied up and burned to death. Not very nice. And the daughter is forced to watch." Damon's voice was full of morbid fascination as he continued. "The traumatised child exerts powerful and accidental magic. The child escapes - as the Muggles burn along with the barn they're in."

"That's rough," Orion said slowly. Maybe he shouldn't have brushed the book off so callously beforehand. None of his books were the slightest bit as interesting as that. "Do I even want to know the rating of the book?" This caused Damon to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. Yes, Orion decided he would borrow this book some time. But, he digressed, asking, "Damon - seen Viscaria or Draco pass by, by any chance?"

Damon stroked his chin. "Ah, I believe I did. Viscaria. Looked like someone had put a bogey-flavour bean in her salad." He pointed to a nearby courtyard down the garden - somewhat obscured by a thick, undergrowth of shrubbery surrounding it.

Orion grinned. "She's probably just bored and just needs something to mutilate," Orion said without thought. Damon stared at him, aghast. This made Orion quickly remember that Viscaria's behaviour wasn't something for a _normal _discussion. He felt like bashing his head against a tree. He had become a little complacent. So, deciding to choose his next words more carefully, he chuckled, "Ha, ha - I'm only joking Damon. My humours a little odd and dark - that's all. Anyway, thanks for the help, Damon. I'll see you later."

Damon nodded slowly. "No problem. Goodbye."

Wading through the flowery undergrowth, which really was due for a bit of a trimming again, he couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia. It had been a long while ago. But he remembered his younger day - fresh-faced to the manor and his _new _family, he would opt to explore the gardens and let his imagination run wild…

_He was sitting under a tree, his knees pulled up to his chest, and his head bowed._

_"You look sad. Don't you like us anymore?"_

_A younger Orion looked up to see a younger Viscaria, who had arched eyebrow. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail by a pink ribbon. She was wearing a white, summer dress with red and pink roses littering the design. _

_Orion looked away, saying hesitantly, "It's not that."_

_ Viscaria folded her arms, her lips twisting into a pout. "Don't lie, dummy. If you liked us, you wouldn't always be here all the time," she pointed out, as her eyes roving the area arrogantly, "Really, what's so great about this place?" _

_"Okay, maybe it is that," he sighed dry, making her glare at him and making him backtrack in return, "Okay, fine, it's just, ah, d-Luc-your dad always seems so annoyed at me - it's unfair."_

_Viscaria sighed, crouching down carefully so the hem of her dress didn't brush against the slightly, dirty ground. She replied finally, as if it were obvious, "Didn't you hear mummy? He's just stressed. It's probably Draco's fault. He's always crying and moaning. He always makes a mess and he speaks funny."_

_Orion groaned. "Then why doesn't he just take it out on Draco?"_

_"Because he's a toddler, silly," she stressed, "They're all supposed to be stupid like that - then they grow out of it."_

_"And if he doesn't?"_

_"Don't even joke about that."_

_Orion smirked, as he said, "What? Are you going to bury him...? I remember your mother recounting how when Draco was born, you looked at him for a moment and then turned to her and saying: 'Mummy, it's a monster - we should bury him'…" _

"…your name is stupid," snarled Pansy Parkinson. Her loud and high-pitched voice breaking Orion from his musing. Focus on the scene he had just stumbled upon, he saw Viscaria and Pansy facing each other in the seclude courtyard and neither seemed pleased.

Viscaria scoffed. "Names are meaningless. Tell me, Pansy - does your name make your parent's love you? Do those dour syllables bring a proud smile to their faces, or simply shame and discontent," she drawled, folding her arms.

Parkinson bit her lip. "I don't know what you're talking about," the girl snapped.

Viscaria tilted. Smiled. And, turned away. "You do. You know it so well," she replied, stepping forward. "You splutter, you kick, you cry, you scream. But, the truth can never be changed. You actions are driven by one purpose - you're lonely and your forgotten and you hate it."

Parkinson's eyes watered. "Shut up!" she snarled, a tear escaping her eye. "You think you know me, but you don't. M-my parents love me, even if I'm not going to carry on the family name. Because, I'm not a monster like you - I deserve love!"

Viscaria's eyes flickered. Then, they became steel. "Fine! Lie, delude yourself. Doesn't change the truth - you're not _worth_ it," Viscaria continued. "Splutter, kick, cry, scream. You never will be!"

It seemed to be the final nail in the casket. Parkinson went red. The snarl on her pug-face struggling to stay strong. Then came a gasp, a snivel, and the dam burst. Parkinson pressed her palms to her face. It made no difference - the tears slithered out, into the open. The girl turned and went pelting past Orion, barely missing him, and out of the vicinity without a single word.

Viscara laughed. Smirked. And, then tilted her head towards Orion. "Enjoying yourself, Orion?" she asked.

It had certainly been melodramatic. "Hah, a little harsh," he replied casually. "Hmm... ah, it reminds me of the time you smashed the flowerbeds - saying _it_ deserved _it_ for not being as pretty as the other ones."

Viscaria was silent. Her hand grasping her sleeve and slowly sliding it up. There was a faint scar. Orion looked away - those roses sure were interesting. "There is always a toll," Viscaria spoke lightly. "She wronged me and I wronged her in return. The imbalance was settled. But, if she doesn't understand and holds any qualms - I'll be waiting for her until she finally understands." Orion stared at her - maybe it was the nostalgic rush this place gave him, but it felt like he was looking at a stranger. She didn't seem to appreciate his staring. "You want something of me. Say it and be done with it."

Orion shook his head. "So serious."

"What?" she snapped.

"You take yourself too seriously," he sighed, rather dramatically. Shrugging, he folded his arms. "I need fun, Viscaria. Let's do something besides tormenting a girl two years our younger. That's boring and been done before. I'm thinking big - after all, we're unsupervised..."

* * *

There was always a private dinner after the party. It was where the immediate family members could partake in a lavish, family meal and speak more freely (although, not too freely). Meanwhile, the rest of the guests had all left over half-an-hour ago. And so, Orion had been ushered into the dinning room by a fretting Narcissa, and was soon followed by Viscaria and then Draco. Narcissa had been very determined to hunt them all down when they hadn't immediately shown up on the dot.

The table was grandiose. Blanketed by a dark-green cover with silver trimming. An extravagant candle poised in the centre. Two vases, filled with Marigolds and Roses to the brim, set apart on either side of the table. The scent of the flowers clinging to air like a starved man. Blatantly enchanted, no doubt. Repugnant perfection at its finest hour.

Besides Orion, Draco and Viscaria, the other occupants at the table were all adults. Rasmus Malfoy was sitting next to Lucius - neither looked pleased. Narcissa sat beside Lucius like a model wife - appearing quite content, despite her nervous, subtle glances to the elderly gentleman sitting at the foot of the table. Arcturus Black. The Head of the Black family and Orion's great-grandfather - ancient yet still alive to outlive his son, Orion Black I, his daughter-in-law, Walburga Black, and his youngest grandson, Regulus Black. The head of the table was empty - devoid of Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius' elderly and frail father, the self-crowned head of the Malfoy family - too ill to attend, apparrently. A few polite and customary greetings and the finger bowl aside, Orion was glad to finally tuck in. The food in the ballroom was a fine contender, but the Malfoys always saved the best till last, for themselves. It was in their nature.

It had been a calm silence for a while, but then Rasmus had to speak. "Well, well - how have you been Lucius...? We haven't spoken in Merlin knows how long." He diligently sipped his soup, making a face, before continuing, "Your Prophet recounted in lavish detail how you made a most gracious donation to St. Mungo's. Aren't you gratis...? Too busy skirting scandals to stay in contact with your dearest and only cousin?"

Lucius sipped his Bungbarrel Spiced Mead. "You extended me no such kindness. Why, should I, you?" he drawled, tilting his head.

Rasmus scowled. "I sent you a dozen letters."

Lucius churned the mead in his mouth, before swallowing and releasing a content sigh. "Your owls must have gotten lost," he replied finally. "I've heard French birds are easily frightened."

"Some of them were English owls. Not that French owls are daft, anyway," Rasmus drawled. "You're misinformed."

Paying his cousin no mind, Lucius set his goblet down and set himself on his elaborately-coated lobster. After a few moments, he gifted his cousin with a crooked smile. "My bad. And, I believe you mentioned something about scandal? Please, I am a law-abiding and a respected member of the Wizarding community. Any ministry official, court or Auror would tell you no different." Lucius sipped of his drink, before setting it down again. "Absurd for you to even imply I would desecrate the course of justice. You're faithlessness in your own flesh and blood, your family, - appalling."

Rasmus gave a charming smile, setting his spoon down. "Faithlessness? Appalling? What family...? We're distrustful acquaintances who just happen to share a bloodline. It's not a question of faith. It's an immutable fact. I have never been so disappointed in any man more than you." Lucius looked at Rasmus blankly, while others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "And, elf, this soup is dismal. Too spicy. Too thick. Get me some Bouillabaisse instead." This complaint earned an a twitch from Lucius. In a matter of moments, the bowl of soup disappeared with a _crack_, a new one appearing in its place a moment later and Rasmus began to tuck in more appreciatively.

"Perhaps your taste-buds have declined after slurping and gobbling up so much trash?" Lucius drawled.

Orion caught his rather silent, grandfather, Arcturus Black, roll his eyes at the display of the men. The elderly man eventually seemed to catch his great grandson's gaze, because he gave Orion a discreet wink, before continuing with his meal.

Rasmus leisurely sipped a spoonful of his soup. He looked at ease. But, the slight tightening of his mouth had given away his offense. "Trash? The French treat food like an art. Much better than the slobber you slap on your plates," he said calmly, before dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

"Food...? When did I specify it was food?" Lucius drawled, suggestively.

Orion and Viscaria exchanged looks.

Narcissa decided to intervene before things escalated. "Come now, there is no need. There is never need for such talk at dinner," she tried to appease, polishing her smile up. "Please, think of the children."

Rasmus and Lucius had just enough good grace within them to look slightly ashamed.

Not enough for them to apologise for their behaviour, however.

A thick silence descended - with slight disturbance of meaningless small talk along the way. But, Rasmus couldn't help himself, once again. Not that Orion blame him. Despite the small mercy of delicious and bountiful food, staring at dishwater was a strong contender to surpass the dinner in being riveting. "Hah. Still. A law-abiding citizen...? I thought you were a proficient liar - but, alas, I suppose your Ministry of Magic has sub-par intelligence."

Narcissa stifled a groan.

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "I honestly don't understand what you're talking about," he replied, half-heartedly evasive. "You are most cynical, cousin. I have been doing my best to improve the Wizarding world. It's simply good fortune I always seem to be rewarded such lovely benefits for my charity."

Rasmus raised his glass-goblet in a mocking toast. "Of course."

The room lapsed into silence, again.

Orion stifled a sigh. He always hated these private dinners - despite the occasional, interesting banter. He, as child, was to be seen and not heard. Hah. Not a child, a piece of furniture was more apt to describe how he felt. Privileged - he was a privileged child. Bathed, well-fed, educated, spoiled. Yet, when he saw these adults in their element - the control, the freedom, they exuded. It made him feel like his life was years away from starting. Empty. Puppets. Lucius, Narcissa, all of them - they wanted puppets instead of children.

The worse thing was he couldn't even express this injustice.

It was best for his sake that he didn't.

Besides, he didn't even know how.

As he continued to tuck into his meal - the rich pork enriching his tongue - Orion could help but slide his eyes over to the bottle of _Schletters Fine Whisky_ resting nearby. Curiosity - it bubbled like wildfire. He had seen adults drunk before - sluggish, jabbering. Freed from their exhibitions. What was the flavour of this one? Was cool like ice or did it set you alight with feeling...

"…So, how is France this time of year?" Lucius drawled, not even sounding remotely curious.

Sipping his drink, Rasmus cast a distasteful glance to the window. It had begun to rain. "It does me well to connect with the ancient roots of our family. Even, if some of us have forgotten such." He sent Lucius a look, who ignored it. "I've done some research on Armand Malfoy and it's quite intriguing," Rasmus continued. "He was our French ancestor, Lucius - who came to Britain in 1066 and began our lineage here."

Noticing his cousin's pride, Lucius barely suppressed a sneer. "Well – there was a reason he left."

Ignoring his cousin's remark, he pushed his half-finished soup to the side and began to tuck into his Shepherd's pie, before finally saying, "As for personal preference. I intend no offence, but France is certainly better than dreary old England. You cannot understand the depths of my disdain for this place after seeing what France has to offer."

The more traditional, British, uptight people (all the other adults essentially) around the table seemed to take offence to a varying degree over his remark. However, Rasmus, who seemed oblivious as he dabbed his lips with his napkin; either not noticing, since most of them concealed their irritation quite well, or simply did not care.

Lucius barely restrained a sneer, as he spoke mockingly, "Oh, I suppose it is, isn't it? France, after all, has quite the infestation of the undesirable sort, especially these days. My - you must feel right at home there." Rasmus' gave Lucius a chilling look, but he continued regardless, "Why, it must be intimidating returning to England for a short while. But, please, take no offence, of course. We don't want to spill all the bad blood between us in front of the children. So, how's the wife…? Oh, I apologise again - _and _the mistresses_ and_ their bastards as well?"

Rasmus' grip tightened on his glass goblet slightly, replying simply, his tone somewhat strained, "They're fine. My wife's had a child..."

"Finally," Lucius drawled.

Ignoring his cousin's condescension, Rasmus continued tightly, "Yes, I'm sure you've heard. A son. Her physical participation in the birth was minimised, thankfully. She was determined not to suffer one of nature's biases. Amazing how Healers and potions have progressed over the years."

Lucius waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes - riveting," he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "I apologise. I didn't mean to assume. It's just - I noticed that not one of them is here with us. Oh, I dearly hope there isn't any trouble in paradise."

Rasmus' grip tightened further and Orion could almost swear he saw small cracks forming on the glassy surface of the goblet. "And what of your paradise?" Rasmus snapped, stiffly letting go of his goblet before it shattered. "After all, Lucius, I come here and when I look at your wife - all I can see is a tired woman, with a tiresome husband, and certainly not someone on the brink of heaven's delights. Deader and deader every time. Well, it's not like we can't understand why."

Orion's hand froze an inch from the Schletters Fine Whisky. Draco had choked on his water and proceeded to have a wheezing fit. Viscaria gaped - although the upward curl of her lip and the harsh breaths indicated she was trying to suppress laughter. Arcturus was frowning. Narcissa was frozen stock-still. Meanwhile, Lucius looked outraged beyond words - standing upright so abruptly it was a wonder his spine didn't snap, the man was rearing for a fight as he raised his cane - only to feel his wife's soft, touch stop him.

While Narcissa smile had cracked a little and struggle to stay a lift - a final gulp of her drink seemed to re-energise her. She set her goblet down (a little too quickly) and she broke in. "Now, now, really - there really is no need such talk, gentlemen." She was polite, yet surprisingly forceful. Seemingly trying to stay as calm and poised as possible, she continued, "There are young ears present - please remember that. Oh and that reminds me. Rasmus, it was so kind of you to send those beautiful gifts of yours to the children. They were much appreciated."

Narcissa's change of subject proved successful. Lucius reluctantly sat down, sneering. Rasmus' lips curled in a smile, waving humbly. "Hmm, yes. I thought it was the least I could do after not seeing them for so long," he drawled, rather proud.

Rasmus and rest of the adults turned their attentions to Orion, Viscaria and Draco.

They received a slight surprise...

Orion was leaning back in his chair, leisurely sipping at the Schletters Fine Whisky bottle without care in the world. Oblivious to looks he was receiving. Viscaria was trying to conceal an amused smile. Draco had failed to keep the slightest of poise at the adults' shocked faces (with the exception of Rasmus) and burst out into a full round of sniggers.

Lucius regained his composure rather quickly. "Orion!" Lucius growled. The man lurched forward, over the table, seemingly ready to snatch the bottle from his ward grasps. "Put that down now! I'm not sure if you recall, but you're underage."

Completely unperturbed by the underage drink, Rasmus interjected, "Oh, Lucius - don't be such a wet blanket." He raised his own empty goblet so a house-elf would appear with a _crack_ and fill it to the brim with more of his Dragon Barrel Brandy. He raised his goblet to Orion encouragingly. "Let the child have a bit. He's under adult supervision."

Ignoring his cousin, Lucius merely continued to try and snatch the bottle tightly gripped in Orion's hand. After much difficulty, sloshes of alcohol splattering on the table cloth, Lucius managed to relieve Orion of the drink. "We'll speak about this later," Lucius warned a severely-disappointed Orion - who had a slight, pink hue resting on his cheeks. Lucius then set the bottle by his own side and began to tauntingly fill his own goblet to the top, smirking at Orion's envious gaze and ignoring Narcissa's disapproving look.

Bastard. Orion would kill for that bottle back.

Rasmus sighed, muttering something that sounded distinctly like the word _prude_. Orion couldn't certain that was exactly what he said that - he felt a little dazed at the moment."Did you like your gifts, children?" Rasmus asked kindly, seemingly back on track and reminding others to do the same.

There was an awkward pause. Viscaria decided to be the first to break it. "Of course, how could I not...? How kind of you to appeal to my interests like that," she spoke sweetly. "I even managed to discover a new setting."

Narcissa sent a warning look.

Rasmus raised an eyebrow, rather bemused. "What new setting?"

"Agony."

Orion felt a little off. He couldn't help a loud, almost-hysterical laugh bubbling from his mouth. Draco stifled his own laughter, failing appallingly. Arcturus seemed faintly amused by it all and not even remotely irritated. However, rest of the adults were dismayed.

Rasmus stared at Viscaria with undecipherable look. Orion liked to believe this was the point where the man had finally figured out Viscaria was actually _crazy_. "That's… nice," he uttered dryly, exchanging glances with Lucius.

Viscaria smirked, taking a sip of water from her goblet. "I must admit - the screams, there is nothing quite like it. Although - I am sad to say, the doll couldn't handle it for too long. Too _fragile_… too _flammable_. Unfortunate, but great _fun_ till its very last moments, I assure," she spoke brusquely.

By now, most of the table felt uneasy. Arcturus looked nostalgic, as did Narcissa. "Ah - I _see_…" Rasmus trailed off, before trying to move on. "Draco…? Orion…?"

Orion smiled widely, slumping a bit in his chair. "_Oh_, I thank - I thank you for the thing… it was a nice gift." He may have sounded rather tipsy at the moment, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Rasmus smiled in amusement, as did Arcturus - but Lucius annoyed. Narcissa's merely took another gulp of her drink. "Although - it did get rather dirty in the end."

Rasmus frowned. He looked like he was going to demand why, but Arcturus finally spoke up, for the first time in the entire dinner. "Why?" the aged-man asked, arching an eyebrow. His voice was slow and deep, having a presence to it. Over all, he seemed rather amused. "What exactly did you do with it?"

Orion smiled stupidly, the alcohol clouding his mind. "Well, I, um - I first I used it as reins," he began, ignoring the strange looks being sent his way. "To ride the peacocks across the garden…"

Lucius paled. "What?"

"…until it couldn't go anymore. It was - it was fun. Like a broomstick - except on the ground and really loud," Orion continued obliviously. Lucius turned even paler. "I, I, ah, even let Viscaria have a go. I mean, I almost felt bad for the peacock, but then I remembered that it was evil… or was it Viscaria that was evil… Why was I riding a peacock, again…? Oh, because it was fun, yeah, I remember. Okay - then we both used the belt to whack things across the room. Like a club. Viscaria and I managed to hit Dobby and Whimsy a few times."

Draco was letting loose muffled sniggering. Viscaria was frowning. And he, Orion, looked_ a bit_ out of it. Meanwhile, most of the adults weren't fairing as well. Lucius still looked utterly horrified at the cruel treatment of his prized peacocks. Narcissa was messaging her forehead. Rasmus was at caught between smiling and frowning. Meanwhile, Arcturus was still amused.

Narcissa exchanged irritated looks with Lucius. "How much did he drink?" she sighed.

However, Orion wasn't finished with his tirade. "Hey, Rasmulast - I mean Rasmus, did you know you're going to die?" It was out of nowhere and earned a few warning glances. Orion sniggered. "Don't worry, I have a plan. All we need to do is bury you in the backyard. Then, we'll pour water on you and you'll live forever - even when you're just bones."

Lucius took a gulp of his beverage, sighing. "Great. Now he's talking like a madman who thinks he's funny." He glanced around at the bemused faces, before bemoaning, "I suppose alcohol brings his father's side of the blood out."

Narcissa pursed her lips, but didn't argue.

Orion stuck his tongue out.

Instead of paying attention to Orion's display, Rasmus was still brooding on another matter entirely. "I supposed the English do not appreciate gifts as much as the French do," he proclaimed, irritably, trying to take it all in his stride. His sentiment seemed to simply annoy the other adults, but Rasmus wasn't finished. "I suppose, dear cousin, you threw away the _Dragon Barrel Brandy_ I graciously gave you, as well…? It wouldn't surprise me - the disgraceful behaviour had to come from somewhere. I highly doubt it's from your wife?"

"You're obsessed with that drink," Lucius muttered, but seemingly chose not to dignify his cousin with an answer beyond that.

Viscaria smiled pleasantly, taking another sip from her goblet. "But uncle - Draco did enjoy his gift." This seemed to lift the Rasmus' spirits once again, making him begin to look fondly at Draco (who looked a little nervous) as he sipped his brandy. Then Viscaria leaned forward, steepled fingers resting on the table, as she continued, "Well - until he cut himself, that is, a mere hour later. Well - then he cast it aside like offal and, after much hysteria, explained how much he _hated it_."

Rasmus choked on his drink. After a few moments of hacking, with Lucius half-heartedly patting him on the back, he managed to compose himself. Not paying attention to the wine dribbling down his indignant face and staining his fine dress-robes - he glared and he snapped,"Well then - rest assured, I won't be getting you three gifts anytime soon."

Orion, Viscaria, and Draco all receive a severe reprimand after for their behaviour during the dinner. Although, Orion just supposed one couldn't have a little joy without a little pain in this household - and joys such as these were well worth it.

* * *

**IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm in the process of re-editing this fic - it's will take some time, so bear with me.**

**Author's Note: Is it good, is it bad? This was more of a setting everything in place kind of chapter - I hope you liked it. Please review - I would like some constructive criticism and will take suggestions into account. Please, also feel free to point out any mistakes - like punctuation and spelling. **

**Also, while Orion, Viscaria and Rasmus are the main OC mentioned. There are a lot of obscure characters in this chapter - who sparingly appeared in the Harry Potter games, are sparingly mentioned in the books or are mentioned on other released content - You can find a lot of them on the Harry Potter wikia.**


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